


And the World's a Stage

by penny



Category: Eternal Poison
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Pegging, Strap-On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-10
Updated: 2009-07-10
Packaged: 2017-10-04 12:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penny/pseuds/penny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thage dines with the count.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And the World's a Stage

**Author's Note:**

> For the "pegging/strap-ons" Kink Bingo square.
> 
> Minor spoilers for Thage's tale.

Besek can fight her all it wants. She will complete her librum, and she will find the Eternal Poison. And if in the end, Raki finds a way to betray her as that annoying Count warned her...well, there's room for him in her librum. She'd rather it not come to that -- Raki has been a good companion -- but she is not so dependent on him that she can't function without him. She would miss him, though.

The air lifts as they approach the Count's domain. Raki says Besek is a different dimension, and Thage finds it the most acceptable explanation. The deeper they go into Besek, the more cloying the atmosphere becomes. It's almost like humidity -- that moist, heavy press -- but not quite. What she registers as moistness is...something different. Besek is full of sensations that are like something familiar -- humidity, heat, cold -- but not quite the same, and it's impossible to accurately identify the differences. No wonder the place is deadly to humans. It is a bit maddening having to accept Besek is far beyond any imaginable experience.

Thage is so wrapped up in her thoughts that she doesn't see the Count. Raki's low growl -- inaudible, but she feels it since he brushes against her leg -- is her only warning.

"Ah, so you return safely, my princess. I'm so glad no harm has come to you."

She sniffs. Their encounters with the Majin are difficult -- she, Raki, and Retica would not be successful without the assistance of the mercenaries -- but she will not admit such weakness to the Count.

"But of course," he gives her a slight bow, keeping his hands clasped behind his back, "you are much too powerful to fall to some lesser Majin."

"Of course," she agrees, curling her fingers in the thick fur behind Raki's ears. She can still feel his growl, and if she chooses to believe it's because he's protective of her? Well, it is a partial truth.

The Count smiles, and she knows she's supposed to find it charming, but she spent too much of her youth among charming, calculating people to be fooled by the Count's obvious displays. This is yet another stage, and he is yet another actor.

"Perhaps you'll do me the honor of dining with me tonight?" He smiles, and it does actually reach his eyes, but there's no warmth to it.

"I told you, my librum is incomplete. I won't show it to you."

"You misunderstand my intentions. I merely wish the pleasure of your company for dinner. Or more precisely, for dinner and dessert." He withdraws his hands from behind his back and offers her a small package. The box is a vivid emerald green and tied with a black lace bow.

She's reluctant to take her hand off Raki, but she has no choice if she accepts the gift. And she has no choice but to accept the gift. Well, that's not entirely true. She can refuse. But there's a challenge in the Count's gaze, and she will not let a worm like him get the best of her.

"Wonderful," he says when she accepts the box. "Is an hour enough time for you to...refresh yourself? I wouldn't want our meal to grow cold."

"Very well," she says. She _is_ hungry, and there's no point asking for more time.

"Then I look forward to dining with you, my princess." He places his hand over his heart and bows again, and then he withdraws.

Thage sighs. Such an annoying man. He does want her librum, and it puts her in an awkward position, because she's not in the habit of leaving it in Raki's care. Raki is not supposed to be able to use it, not while he's under his Oath, but she doesn't like testing his limits.

Well, there's no helping it now.

"Thage," Raki says.

"The box is too small to hold a dress. I wonder what his gift is." She unties the bow.

The box is lined with more black lace. And underneath its folds, she can see...something green, the same shade as the box. Thage frowns and lifts the lace.

It's a phallus. She doesn't lift it from the box, but she can tell it's too thick for her to circle her thumb and fingers around it. The head is shaped like...well, that dancer fool, Muse, had managed to tempt that archer from Peluna into her bed, and she'd said he doesn't have a foreskin. His prick must look similar to...to the one in her box.

"Thage." Raki's voice is a growl this time.

"Stop smelling me," she snaps. The phallus isn't the only item in the box. There's also a leather harness, and...it isn't entirely unpleasant under her fingers.

There's no mistaking what the Count desires for dessert. Thage can't decide if she wants to see him kneeling before her or bent over the dining table. Both are pleasant images. But as tempting as watching that lying mouth of his close around her girth -- she wonders how his hair, as fair as her own, would feel under her palm -- Thage realizes she'd rather have him writhing beneath her. And it's not like she can't fist her hand in his hair when she's fucking him on his elegant table.

"He's up to something," Raki says, and his voice still holds a growl.

"Yes." Thage closes the box again and fingers the lace of the bow. "There is a possibility he'll inadvertently disclose something."

"And you?"

Thage laughs. "Well, that's one of the dangers of life, isn't it, Raki?"

"Thage..."

"It was a joke, Raki. I'm well aware of that man's motives."

"I should still bite off his head."

"I have a more important task for you tonight." She tightens her grip on her librum. "The librum. And Retica."

"Hey!" Retica says.

"You're panting," Thage says. "A good night's rest should help your fatigue." A lie, but as long as the boy doesn't admit anything, she has no qualms about continuing the charade.

"I'm...I'm fine."

"You'll stand guard, right Raki?"

Raki's growl is audible. "If that is what you wish, Thage."

"It is."

Raki bows his head. "I am your servant."

* * *

The Count's residence is ostentatious enough to remind people he is nobility and spartan enough to give the impression he suffers with his people. Thage is actually impressed. It's a tough line to straddle, and like everything, the Count does it wonderfully.

She shakes her head. No, that sort of thinking will let her fall under his thrall. It's an act. Everything with the Count -- with men like him -- is an act. She's nothing but an actress on a stage. Her stage, though. She won't let herself step onto the Count's stage. No, she'll pull him onto hers.

Basil -- ever the proper butler -- shows her to the dining room. The table is small, intimate, and the Count is already seated. He rises when she enters. "My princess," he says, coming around the table. He kisses the back of her hand, a model gesture from a model gentleman. "I am so glad you came."

She places his box -- minus the bow -- on the table. "You promised such a satisfying meal."

A curl of lust slithers across his face. "I can provide no less for someone as lovely as you."

"Oh? Do you intent to keep up this banter all night?"

"You would prefer more frank talk?"

"I am hardly a blushing maiden who requires euphemisms. If there is a meal to eat, let us dine. We can discuss dessert later."

He laughs and pulls her chair out for her. "Ah, your blunt nature is part of your charm. I'm afraid there's only one course. Besek provides certain...challenges to my supply chain."

Thage gazes up at him through lowered lashes. "I'm sure I'll be quite satisfied."

"Playing coy?" He leans over her shoulder as she settles in her seat. His voice drops. "It doesn't suit you."

"No," Thage agrees.

He straightens. "I am so glad we're in agreement." He smirks as he takes his seat. "My princess."

She's not sure what they have for dinner. A steak of some sort -- probably not Koona, but if the Count tells her the true source, she doesn't remember -- with Besek-grown almost-vegetables. They're green, at least. All she remembers is a lemony butter taste.

She's nervous, she realizes. She's out of practice dealing with men like the Count. She's used to Raki, to the...animalistic displays of absolute dominance. With the Count...no. After her last bite, she sets her utensils down deliberately. She is Thage. She will only accept a role on her stage, not the Count's.

The Count dabs his mouth with his napkin. "Were the portions generous enough? I'd hate to leave you hungry." His voice dips again. "My princess."

"Generous enough." She strokes the box, which neither of them had looked at during dinner. "It seems, though, you have saved the most generous portions for dessert."

"Would you like a brief tour? We should let dinner settle, after all."

"If that is what you wish." She rises and scoops the box from its place on the table.

"This way, then."

He takes his time leading her through the rooms. The place isn't as spartan as it appears from the outside. The furniture and tapestries are elegant, understated, and everything is polished to perfection.

The Count's chambers are, of course, luxurious. Thage allows herself a brief stab of...not-quite swooning. So, even with the protection her librum provides, Besek's influence still reaches her. Well, she can use that to her advantage.

The Count steps behind her. "I am glad you seem to appreciate my present. Perhaps," his fingers toy with the fastenings of her dress, but he does not undo them, "you will be kind enough to wear it for me."

She catches his wrist. "I'll do more than wear it, but not for you." She turns and holds his gaze as she unfastens her dress. It's not like it leaves much to the imagination. And she has no qualms about standing naked before him. She may not have her librum, but she is far from powerless without it. And -- she admits this to no one except herself -- she is not truly naked, not truly vulnerable, until she takes off her stockings.

"You are quite beautiful, my princess."

"But it seems I am lacking."

"Ah, my gift." The Count draws closer. "Are you saying you'd be satisfied playing the maiden?"

She narrows her eyes. "Hardly."

"Then allow me." He flutters his lashes. "You will be gentle, won't you?"

Her fingers tighten, and the box bends beneath them. "Do not mock me."

He drops to his knees. "Hardly, my princess." He takes the box from her, leaning in to gently kiss her fingers. "Please, forgive me for making light. This is not a role I usually adopt."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" she asks as he withdraws the harness.

"I admit," he says and he fastens it around her, "I would enjoy that, but I do not believe that is in your nature." He runs his thumb along the head of the phallus. "Is it?"

She hitches her hips so she's on display before him. She's not wet yet, but she can feel the beginnings of lust uncurling in her cunt. Some evidence of it must be showing. "No."

The Count laughs softly. His touch is reverent as he fastens the phallus in place. Thage is...surprised by his actions. This is not like an encounter with Raki. Or even with Retica. There's a...coy playfulness to it. She's not sure if she likes it.

But she doesn't dislike it. She reaches down and curls her hands around the phallus. It matches her eyes, she realizes, finally. And that...heat snaps down her spine. No. This is the Count's stage. She must step back to hers.

"You're very pretty on your knees, but that's not how I want you."

"Oh?" His eyes flare. "I'm at your mercy."

She fists her hand in his hair. "Crawl into bed for me."

"As you wish, my princess." He does actually crawl. She wishes she had him strip first. The clothes are a distraction. She can imagine the flex of his muscles, but if she had scripted things right, she would not have to rely on her imagination.

"What do you hope to gain from this?" Thage asks.

He glances over his shoulder. "There are times, my princess, when a man only desires release."

"To believe that, I would have to believe you were a normal man." She realizes she's stroking her phallus. Lewdly. It's cool under her hand, smooth except for the evenly spaced ridges. She's never given much thought to inserting something like it inside her, but...the way it feels just in her hand, she can understand the desire.

Her own desire is burning now. Her cunt throbs in time with her pulse, and it feels heavy. Greedy.

Is this how Raki feels when she lets him mount her? No wonder he tests her.

"Are you going to show me that pretty ass of yours, or just tease me with it?" she asks. The question slips out before her mind can vet it.

He laughs. "Such crudeness suits you." He sheds his clothes, quickly and efficiently. There's no show to it, and that's a relief, because she's not sure how she'd handle that.

The Count is nothing like Raki and Retica. He's under no Oath, at least no Oath imposed by her, so his testing of her limits is dangerous. Thage stalks towards him. "That's better," she purrs.

He's completely naked. Thage doesn't know how to take that. So he has nothing like her stockings? Nothing he uses to protect himself? Well, they are in his home, in his chambers. Perhaps the setting serves as his shield.

Because as prettily as the Count blushes, as coy as those lowered lashes are, he is not vulnerable. "Do you have a way to prepare yourself?" Thage asks. It's politeness, she tells herself.

Just politeness. It's not hesitation on her part. Not at all.

He smiles. "How kind of you. Yes." He rises gracefully to his feet, and Thage can't help watching. Her expression is hungry. She has no desire to hide her wants, even though she's not sure whose stage those wants put her on.

He has a vial of oil in the drawer of his nightstand. Unlike when he undressed, he does put on a show in preparing himself. It's somewhat fascinating the way his cock thickens without him even touching it. Thage watches the thatch of light hair on his mound darken as he works up a sweat.

"That's enough." She's not sure why she's angry. Of course the Count would act like he'd planned everything. And perhaps he had. Still, as long as she doesn't forget herself -- or him -- she'll stay on her stage.

"As you wish." The blush tinting his cheeks does make him look more like a maiden than a man. But his own girth...there is no mistaking he is a man.

And in their surroundings -- the sheets are slick beneath her knees as she joins him on the bed, black silk, she realizes, or what passes for silk in Besek -- there's no mistaking he feels in control. Even as she presses her phallus against his slicked hole, even as he gasps and has to force himself to relax as she pushes in -- one slow, relentless stroke -- there's a glint in his eyes that tells her he is getting exactly what he wants.

He cups her breasts. She pushes his head away when he tries to suck on them. She wants his mouth on them, but it's more important that she denies him something he wants.

Instead, she threads her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and tilts his head back. His hair is silky beneath her fingers -- softer than hers -- and that make her angry, too. She forces herself deep inside him, and she can almost feel him clenching around her phallus. Its base presses against her mound, and it's almost the right pressure for her to come. Almost.

She licks his neck, tastes salt and something that's almost-musk. So Besek has touched him, too. Thage isn't surprised. There's a part of her that believes the Count had a hand in Besek's appearance. She has no proof, and Raki is silent on the matter, so it's nothing more than unfounded suspicion.

She doesn't trust suspicions. Not until she encounter proof, and then they become theories. Theories, after all, are much more trustworthy than feelings.

Thage sucks on his neck. The Count makes a delightful little whimper. She draws back and considers the welt. It's a pitiful mark. She's capable of so much more. She leans back down and bites.

"Ah!" He shudders beneath her, and he places his hands on her hips, digs his fingers in. "Be --"

She chuckles. "Be gentle?" She licks a trail down to his collarbone, nips at his skin, sweat-slicked and tight over the bone. "You're hardly a maiden, though you do blush so prettily."

"And you, my princess, play the dashing lord so well." The Count's voice is high, breathless, and Thage isn't so far gone to believe it's her skill making him squirm so.

She forces his hands from her hips and pins them over his head. Stretched out beneath her, he does look enticing. His cheeks are tinted pink, and their combined sweat makes him slick. His lips are parted, and the swipe of his tongue over them makes them glisten so they beg to be kissed. Thage ignores that, dips head to his chest again, and bites at his nipple, drawn tight under her tongue.

He gasps. Thage bites harder until he grunts, then lets out a strangled noise, like he's biting back a whimper. At some point, he'd linked his legs over hers so she's trapped against him. His prick is hard against her stomach, its tip moist. She grinds against it. She can't believe how wet she is, how close she is even though she's empty and wanting. The pressure on her mound is unbearable, but she refuses to reach release first.

No. When she draws back, she can see it in the Count's face. He wants this to unravel her. He wants her to lose control, to be so overwhelmed by a new experience that she forgets herself, forgets that everything is a display of dominance so that even though he's the one accepting her, he rules the encounter.

She shifts and pins his wrists with one hand. Her hand's not quite big to hold him in place, but she does her best to make her expression severe. And when she reaches between them to take him in hand, he does gasp and does appear to forget himself. So even though he writhes beneath her, he doesn't try to break free.

She thrusts in deep. And hard. She forces a ragged gasp from him on each stroke, and perhaps the Count is a fine actor, but she doesn't believe each one is voluntary. Once she curled her hand around his length, she managed to seize control of their encounter. It's her stage now, so she can enjoy their performance.

He bites down on his lip. He tenses, then convulses, and there's the hot spill of his seed between them. Thage growls -- this must be how Raki feels when she comes -- and kisses him, hard and relentless. He...melts beneath her, and the strangled, surrendering whimper he makes pushes her over the edge. She's not sure if she's moaning or purring or growling, but whatever sound she makes, it's satisfying. And when she's done, she slumps against him for a moment before withdrawing.

They share the bed for a moment, panting. The air is thick with their arousal, their combined musk. It gathers at the back of Thage's throat so she can't tell if she's tasting it or smelling it or both.

"That was," the Count says, still panting, "quite satisfying."

Thage reaches down and strokes her length. "You still can't see my librum."

He chuckles. "Not even when it's complete?"

When it's complete, when she finds the Eternal Poison, there won't be time to show her librum to anyone. But...her limbs feel heavy, syrupy, and she feels content. What harm is there in a tiny lie? "Perhaps," she says.

Ah, but it's not in her nature to lie. "If the situation allows," she adds.

"Then I'll pray that it does." The Count closes his hands over hers, guides it as if her phallus was real, as if she was seeking physical release. "My princess."

She decides not to muster the will to correct him.


End file.
